


Steam

by arrow (esteefee)



Category: due South
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Angst and Humor, April Showers Challenge, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-16
Updated: 2007-06-16
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:12:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/arrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys get tied up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steam

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [](http://viciouscats.livejournal.com/profile)[**viciouscats**](http://viciouscats.livejournal.com/) because of her wonderful [Fraser-gets-tied-up](http://viciouscats.livejournal.com/17087.html) recs, which gave me Idears.

Oh, this is good. This is just great. This is only my worst nightmare ever and my number one hottest fantasy, both at the same time.

See, for reasons that don't need _yadda-fucking-yadda_ , Fraser and I are plastered front to front, in our underwear, in a goddamned boiler room.

Only, we're _roped_ together. That's where the nightmare part comes in, because the Mario brothers (uh-huh, there are three of 'em) tied us up like this a few minutes ago and then left us here.

Alone. And, yeah: sweaty.

Ask me why Luigi and his demented siblings tied us up _this_ way instead of back to back or, better yet, on opposite sides of the room facing the walls or something. That would've made it easier for me, but I guess it makes sense from the trussing standpoint, seeing as there's this warm pipe they've got my hands tied to behind my back, and Fraser's hands are tied to mine back there, with his arms wrapped around me in this colossal hug.

Did I mention that we're in our skivvies? I think they were going for the humiliation factor right there.

Fraser is flushed from the heat, and he's staring over my shoulder because our faces are too close, and I hope to God he's working up some plan with that Great Brain of his right this second, because I'm about twenty away from throwing wood--of the mighty sycamore variety--and losing what's left of my dignity, not to mention the best friend I've ever had.

Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure whatever he comes up with is bound to involve squirming of some kind. Hot, half-naked squirming—and did I mention the sweaty? Because it really bears repeating.

I am so screwed. The depths to which I am screwed, well, let's just say _Voyage to the Center of the Earth_ and leave it at that.

"Yo, Fraser, you got a plan yet?" Christ, he smells good.

"Ah, not as such, Ray. Not yet." He's still looking over my shoulder, and he's got that eyebrow wrinkle that says he's working on the problem pretty hard.

I can feel his arms flexing around my shoulders as he moves his fingers trying to figure out the ropes. He's in a white tank-top and boxers, and we're both pretty much soaked at this point. His hair has gone all curly in the damp, and every time he moves, his hard chest rubs against mine.

This is such bad news.

"Ray, I do think I have worked out a possible solution," Fraser says. "However, it will require a certain amount of flexibility on your part."

"I'm flexible like you wouldn't believe," I say, trying to make it _not_ sound like a bad come-on.

"Excellent. If I can work myself low enough, do you think you could lift your legs over my arm?"

 _Oh, shit_. "Uh, yeah, I think I can do that." Why all of a sudden do I sound like Peter Brady? ' _When it's time to change you've got to re-arraaange...'_

 __"Excellent." Then Fraser, well, he wriggles closer, I guess to try to make a little more slack, and now the polite little bit of distance we'd both been keeping between our pelvises is just _gone._ We're talking Dief-on-vaccination-day gone.

I can't help it. I know it's like I have zero impulse control, but give me a fucking break. I haven't been laid in, oh, gee, _forever_ , and I've got a half-naked, _sweaty_ Mountie with his arms wrapped around me and his groin shoved up against mine, and he's breathing in my ear and, I'm _sorry,_ but, hello? It doesn't matter that it's against our will, or that this is the worst possible time, or whatever. These factors all spell **CHUBBY** in big fat capital letters.

I can feel it when _he_ does. When he feels my hard-on, I mean. His whole body goes stiffer than that time he played a corpse (not a top-ten memory of mine) and I hear him hold his breath.

Then, shit-oh-Christ, he kind of makes this tiny sound, almost a whimper, and I feel him grow against my hip. A lot. A lot of growing, there—hot, heavy growing.

 _Holy crap._

 __I'm reacting even before it really sinks in, and I do a side-to-side shift just to feel it better, and to coincidentally rub against him, and he yanks his hips away, fast.

"Don't," he says, sounding just awful. "Ray, don't. I—"

"Fraser!" I know it's not polite to interrupt, but he's got to be kidding. Here we are, half-naked and sporting chubbies and tied together against a pole—

Oh. Right. Maybe this isn't the best time.

"Okay," I say, trying to sound as calm as possible, even though my heart is pitter-pattering in my chest. "Stick to the plan."

"The plan, yes." His eyes are squeezed shut and he sounds completely and totally freaked. But he moves in closer again, not pressed up tight, but close enough I can feel the steam rising between us.

This is so _totally_ unfair.

Then he bends his knees and starts squirming down (I just fucking knew there'd be squirming.) His shirt starts riding up, and the farther down he moves the less slack there is in his arms, and the tighter he is pushed against me; or, more specifically, my hard-on, which is now trying to poke through my boxer briefs for some direct contact with his smooth, slick abdomen.

Unfair. Unfair and inhuman and _inhumane_ and holy crap—call me 'Trigger', but I'm close to coming, that quick. I so do _not_ want to come on Fraser, not like this, like he's some poor, jaded lap-dancer without a choice and I'm the sleazy cigar-smoker in the back with the wilted twenty.

But it's fucking academic. Because he's worked his way down, and I can feel him breathing against my stomach—panting, really—and I know he's getting a big noseful of Ray right now, and then he thunks to his knees and suddenly his cheek is fucking pressed right up against my cock.

Right there. Fraser's face. My cock.

And then he starts to talk. His jaw moves, and I feel his hot cheek and the vibration as he says, "Ray, if you could please—"

And I come right against his face. So long and so hard I see orange stars, and yellow moons, and green clovers, and, hell, purple elephants. I almost die from it.

I'm pretty sure that's _not_ what he was just about to ask me to do.

So now I'm shaking and Fraser is hyperventilating, his cheek still pressed against my soggy briefs, against my limp, wet dick, and folks, can you say humiliation? I think that's what I hear in the sound he makes now, but I'm so red all the blood in my ears has rendered me almost completely deaf. But I can sorta hear myself through the mud chanting, "Sorry...sorry...sorry...so fuckin' sorry."

"Ray. Ray. Ray...Ray!" His jaw is moving against me again. Only now I feel nothing but complete shame.

I sigh. "Yes, Fraser?"

"If you could please try to lift your right leg over my arm," Fraser says in this strangled voice.

"Sure. Sure."

It's almost impossible. I have to shift my weight to the left, then twist my hips and balance on one foot until I can try to squeeze my knee up, and then try to force it between Fraser's arm and my own body, and my wrists are _killing_ me as I use them for leverage, and I'm pretty sure I knock him right in the mouth, but I keep going because I'm sort of stuck now, and finally I manage to get my heel over his elbow and drop my leg on the other side.

Now I'm straddling his arm, and my damp crotch is in his ear. I'm not sure if this is an improvement or not.

"Well done, Ray." I look down at him gratefully and notice his lip is bleeding. Terrific. I kicked him right in that beautiful mouth.

But he looks relieved. "Now the other leg, if you please."

For the other one I have to try to turn more sideways until his chin is grinding my hip, and he makes a pained sound when I do it—not a lot of slack—but then I get my knee up, giving my groin muscles a nice workout, and get it over his arm so my back is to him and we're free of each other.

Thank God.

His arms have pulled the rope pretty tight while he's been down there, so it's a relief to my hands when he drags himself back up to his feet. Then he gets to work with those sharp teeth of his. I feel the tugs, and I swear I can feel drool, or maybe it's his lip bleeding on the ropes. Every so often he makes a grunting noise.

All of this is giving me way too much time to dwell on my utter humiliation on account of coming against Fraser's face without his permission. And yeah, he was hard, too, but that don't mean squat, considering the provocation and the circumstances, so now I've got a) I just came on Fraser; and b) I've been outed to Fraser as a perverted horn-dog, both thoughts in my head, spinning and grinding and making me feel sick to my stomach.

"Ah," he says—the self-satisfied one, not the confused one—and all of a sudden he's loose, standing in front of me and rubbing his wrists. He has blood on his mouth and in his teeth, which is a little freaky-looking, I don't mind telling you. Fraser-as-vampire—brain does not compute. But then he wipes his lips with the back of his hand and jogs over to his uniform, which is sitting crumpled in the corner where the Mario brothers made him drop it.

Weird of him to leave me hanging, but I guess he's feeling a little naked, what with me coming in his face.

No, he's not putting on the jacket (which, since this is a boiler room, would have been pretty silly), but poking around in the hem. He comes up with what looks like a tiny, flat knife. He won't look at me.

"Proper preparation, huh?"

"Yes, indeed, Ray."

He's got my hands free in a jiffy, and then we collect our clothes. We get dressed in this numb silence. It's obvious we're going to ignore what just happened. But it's kind of hard for me what with trying to get my damp, sticky crotch into my jeans.

Once we're all tidy, Fraser starts to open the door, and then freezes with his bat ears on alert.

"The Mario brothers are still _here_ ," he whispers.

Still here. What a bunch of yutzes. All they had to do was go collect their shipment of mushrooms (the magic kind) and skedaddle. How could they not have figured we'd get loose eventually, or at least that we'd have back-up coming when we didn't report in? Idiots.

Fraser starts creeping down the corridor, and I'm right behind him. We could still get out of this with a minimum of humiliation—professionally, at least—if we can bring these guys down.

And that's what we do. This time we get the drop on _them_. Literally. Fraser releases a cargo net onto their heads while I pelt their asses with coconuts (don't ask), and we have them tied up before you can say 'Mushroom Kingdom'.

After we've got them booked and we've reported to Welsh (" _I do believe, Detective, that you are fortunate to exceed in luck what you lack in the brains department_ "), I grab Fraser by the elbow, thinking we can head back to my apartment to decompress and, incidentally, talk about what the fuck happened back there. Ma Kowalski didn't raise no stinking coward.

He pulls away from me. He makes it seem gentle, but there's no disguising he does _not_ want my hand on him. He won't even meet my eyes when he does it, and my gut drops. Jules Verne time.

"I think I'll head home, Ray," he says. His hair has dried all curly, and he looks about eighteen, but his eyes are so dark and sad.

"I thought—" I take a quick look around. The bullpen is too crowded for this. "Let me give you a ride to your place, at least."

I can see he wants to fight it, but his new apartment is much further than his old walk to the Consulate, and Dief has been waiting at home for his dinner. I can see Fraser weighing it all in his head, and then he nods.

"All right."

So here we are in the Goat, and it's not that long a drive, so I tell my mouth to get in gear, but I can't think of how to start it, what angle to use on him. Mainly because I don't know where he's coming from.

I know where I'm coming from. I've known it since forever, and never did a damned thing about it for a reason. A bunch of reasons, actually. At first, because it was just plain, simple lust—I mean have you seen the ass on this Mountie? 100% Pure Canadian Grade-A, so of course I wanted him and the pants he rode in on from the first moment I saw him. But you don't screw up an undercover gig for a piece of ass, even one wearing pumpkin pants. _Especially_ not one in pumpkin pants, because he's your partner, and you've got a job, and you start to get to know the guy and you read a couple of files on him and see him in non-action, fending off all the babes that throw themselves at him, and you realize this would not be lust to him. No way he does straight lust. So that's a problem.

And second, you've been burned pretty badly by the Stella, we're talking third degree over ninety percent of your body surface, so you aren't looking for anything more right then. Or ever again, you think, except the guy has this way of getting to you. Not just because he's Grade-A in the meat department, but a million other reasons. Like he'd do anything to do the right thing, no matter what it cost him. I never met anyone like that. Sure, it drives me nuts that I end up paying my pound of flesh to ride along, but as much as I bitch about it, I wouldn't have it any other way. He makes me want to do him one better. I love my job again for the first time since I can remember, and it's because of him.

There's also the fact he is an utter freak, resident Chapter President of the Order of Freakdom. Don't know why, but that turns my crank, too. Maybe because I've always been a little freaky myself, and ashamed of it, but he's not ashamed. He just is, from being Mr. Sniff-It to talking to his wolf to the way he takes care of his uniform from toe tip to Stetson. And yeah, the way he looks in it.

It all adds up to me wanting him in my life all the way, and me wanting things I didn't think I could have, until today.

I suddenly realize that all day, since it happened, I've been sorta... _glowing_ in that been-laid kind of way, even though we didn't. Get laid. But I feel the sureness of it, anyway. So I'm gonna go for it. Hell, I bet if I leaned over right now I could still smell my come on him, on the side of his cheek. It must be driving him _nuts_ with that super sensitive nose of his.

It's taken me almost the whole ride to his place to think this through, and I'm almost out of time. I pull us up in front of his building in the second-most-rotten part of town, and I turn off the engine. I can feel him grow straighter in his uniform next to me. If he could do parade rest in a car seat, he would.

"C'mon, Fraser, you know we have to talk about this."

I don't think he was expecting me to be so straight up, because he jerks a little, then says, "Not out here. Perhaps you should come upstairs for a little while."

 _Great. Greatness_. Foot in the door. That's what I'm all about.

We go inside. He lives on the ground floor, which is convenient for Dief, who has a doggie-style door to get outside. It took a while to convince the wolf to use it. He considered it way, _way_ beneath his dignity, Fraser relayed to me. But this way Dief has access to the pretty courtyard out back, a little square of trees and flowers right smack in the ugliest neighborhood in town. Shortly after he moved in, Fraser did the landscaping with a bunch of his neighbors.

Dief comes inside to sniff and bump us. And then he makes this funny sound, gives us a disgusted look, and goes jumping through his door again to run around the courtyard.

Fraser makes a choked sound of his own and fills up Dief's food and water then sits down stiffly at the kitchen table. I don't like that he hasn't taken off his uniform, which is probably still damp from the steam room because it smells more wooly than usual. I also don't like that he's folded his hands together in front of him like he's about to testify before Congress or something.

And I don't like how goddamned hard his face is.

"Your friendship is very important to me, Ray," he says after I sit across from him.

Oh, great. I think that's Canadian for 'let's just be friends.' But I say, "Same here. You know that, buddy."

He nods, and his eyes soften a little. "By important, I of course mean _imperative._ " His hands break formation so he can scrub at his eyebrow. "I need it, Ray. I need you to be my friend."

That makes me warm all over. "I _am_ your friend, Fraser. That ain't gonna change."

He cracks his neck. "About earlier...sometimes, in difficult situations, under very provocative circumstances...well, I understand. Things happen that would not, otherwise."

Huh. No way is he saying what I think he is.

"Fraser, this isn't about—"

"Because I am a man of the world, Ray," he says, rushing over me in this completely fucked-up, panicked voice.

 _Yeah, right.  
_  
"So I can understand why you might have, under the odd, er, pressures of the situation—"

"Hey," I say, getting totally pissed. "You were there too, pal. And I'll tell you something—I don't need to be tied up to _get_ it up."

That does it. His man-of-the-world face goes bright red.

"I didn't mean to imply—"

"Also, maybe this is something I've been thinking about. Maybe this isn't circumstantial or _provocative_ or what have you. Maybe this is just _us_."

"I...I..." He stares at me for a heartbeat. "Would you care for some coffee?" And like that, he's up out of his seat and at it. Coward. The back of his neck is still red, and he almost spills ground coffee all over the counter.

I think it's terrific. Because that one look I saw in his eyes before he went running is worth about a thousand 'oh, babys'. He couldn't hide it. Just like he couldn't hide his woody in the boiler room.

"Need a hand there, Fraser?"

"No, I—thank you kindly, Ray." He almost tears the filter in half getting it into the cradle.

I sit back in my chair, suddenly feeling like the king of the world, like I've got it all in my hand and I'm about to use it for a yo-yo.

'Extraordinarily provocative situation' my _ass_.

Dief plops in through the door and gives us both a measured look before going over to his food bowl.

I wait until Fraser puts my coffee in front of me (cream and seven Smarties, just like I like it, except Smarties suck compared to M&Ms, but don't tell him I said so), and then I let him have it, both bores.

"Don't try to pin this on the Mario brothers, or the extreme rope wrangling, Fraser. I felt what you had going on below the waist. And you know what I want—"

"Do I?" he says. He sounds funny—almost angry, but it's not anger. Fraser doesn't do anger like that. He gets cold when he's mad. Instant frostbite. This is more like—

I get it suddenly. He's over there looking like I've just offended his honor. And those damned blue eyes of his are begging for what he can't with his mouth.

So I know I have to lay it all out, put it all on the line. What else is new, when it comes to him? I mean, when the fuck did he _ever_ take less than everything I could give in a situation?

It's one of the reasons I goddamn love him.

"What I'm feeling isn't just sex, Fraser. It's way more than that." He can't be this stupid, thinking all I want is just a rub off. With _him_. "Jesus, Fraser, I know what to do with my right hand—"

That gets a reaction, all right. The pink goes all the way up to his ears.

"Okay? You get it?"

"No, I don't think—" his eyes are staring over my shoulder again, just like in the boiler room. He clears his throat and looks at me for a split second. "You have to understand—I've felt this way for...quite a while. And today, I thought...but then it appeared to me as if this were a momentary aberration...and I couldn't just—" He waves his hand in a circle, then pushes his fingers forward. I have _no_ idea what it's supposed to mean. But he babbles on, "I'm incapable of having a casual affair; well, man of the world though I might be, and I fear you don't have the same regard—"

"Fraser. You are dumb. D-U-M dumb, you know that?"

He blinks. "Yes, of course."

 _Shit._ Can't even get mad at the freak. He doesn't know any better.

"Haven't you been paying attention? Look at me and Stella. Two _years_ after our divorce and I was still hanging on. I mean I am like one of those fucking sucker fish—what the hell are those things called?"

His face closed up a little when I mentioned Stella's name, but now he just looks puzzled. "Do you mean a remora, Ray?"

"Nah. The cartoon one from that movie." _What the fuck was his name?_ "Mr. Limpet! Yeah, I'm like a fucking _limpet_ , Fraser."

"Ah. Well, though technically Mr. Limpet was a fish, Ray, the limpet itself is a type of mollusk, commonly from the family _Acmaeidae_ —"

I hold up my hand.

"—genus _Acmaea—_ "

"Fraser! Point is, I get stuck on, you cannot unglue me. You _know_ that about me. I ain't casual."

I watch him chew that over for a while. His face is still a little flushed. God, his hair...I can't get over how beautiful this guy is. Sometimes I can't even look at him, it hurts too much.

"Glue, Fraser. I mean, super-strength super-glue. Think epoxy times ten." I can hear myself pleading, and I don't give a damn. Pride is for suckers. All I care about is the way his lips twitched just now as if he really wanted to smile, and his eyes got darker, somehow—he's looking at me like he wishes he could swallow me whole, like I'm a fucking gourmet feast and he's been eating dried moose guts his whole life.

I wanna be his eggs benedict.

I stand up, knowing he'll be able to see I've been hard as nails this entire time. But then, I don't have much of a reputation to maintain after the mess I made this afternoon.

The mess that's still stiff in my pants.

His eyes drop down right away, and they get even darker. He stands up, and without saying a word he moves in on me, grabbing me by the shoulders and steering me back toward the living room, where his bed is. Dief makes a noise from his lounging spot; it sounds like a question.

Fraser _barks_ at him, swear to God, and Dief bolts out with a whine. Then Fraser starts to push me down onto the bed, but I put my hand up on his chest.

"Aren't you gonna kiss me first? I mean I know I'm a cheap date, but—"

He looks a little shocked at himself. "I'm sorry, Ray. I can be more than a little single-minded—"

I shut him up by lunging at his lips. They are so soft and sweet, just like I knew they would be. He kisses _amazing_ , all of his focus right here on my mouth, and he tastes like coffee, and did I mention sweet? So sweet when he licks his tongue against mine. He still smells a little wooly from the steam bath, and I start unbuttoning his tunic from the bottom up, our lips still playing together. When I get to the one under the strap I stop and tug on it.

He gets the hint and stops to pull back, his fingers busy on his uniform. I get sorta mesmerized by the movement—he's so damned efficient, and I don't know how he still has his hands working properly when I can't even seem to get myself unzipped. But he has a lot of stuff to get through, so I manage to catch up, and we both push off our underwear at the same time, and then I'm getting an eyeful. More than an eyeful—two eyes filled up with the sight of all that pale skin and muscle and long, thick inches of cock.

Just fucking beautiful.

We end up on the bed—he has a real bed now, none of this cot business—and we're naked, and this time the steam is rising straight from our skins. He's slick and hard and moaning a little, just a little, right into my ear. And my hands are full of Fraser's ass-cheeks, my feet planted on the bed so I can get some thrusting action. My cock is slippery against his, against that smooth stomach, against his firm hip. Slippery and sliding and Jesus, Joseph and Mary. At some point he slips his cock just below my balls for a couple of stabbing thrusts before he shifts back up, and just the idea of lying with my legs up and Fraser ramming that thick cock inside me gets me over the top faster than you can say 'Thank you, Luigi,' and that's what I'm saying in my head when I'm already coming, shooting my load against Fraser's warm belly.

And he's rubbing his hand over my shoulder, whispering in my ear, "That's it, that's it, Ray. My beautiful Ray."

And—shit. I'm in fucking love.

It takes me a little while to recover from that thought, not to mention the mind-bending orgasm, but when I finally climb out of the fog it's to find him looking at me, just a little too Mountie-smug, I guess because he made me come twice today embarrassingly fast, and he's still rock hard and hanging on with that iron control of his that makes me want to break it, break _him_ , make him shiver and fall apart.

And something occurs to me. So I say, just as he starts to attack my neck, "You know, Frase, it's kinda funny you thought the only reason I got it up this morning was because of being tied up. I mean that's a mighty kinky assumption."

He stops nuzzling, and his breath huffs once against my neck like he's exhaled pretty fast.

"Truth is, _getting_ tied up isn't my kink."

"No?" His voice sounds funny. His dick throbs against my leg. And I start to grin.

"Nope." I turn us over and crawl on top of him, fitting myself between his legs. He's staring up at me, his mouth open.

"Well, Ray, I—"

I test my little theory by grabbing hold of his wrists and pinning them down to the mattress next to his shoulders, leaning on them with all my weight.

Bingo. He tugs his hands a little and licks his lower lip, and I can feel him getting even happier against my belly.

"Interesting," I say, and his eyes close.

"Ray—"

"Seems like maybe you were _projecting_ a little there, buddy," I whisper, and see him swallow.

I get off the bed and go over to his uniform, which is crumpled shamefully on the floor next to his boots. His lanyard is lying on top. When I pick it up and turn around, I see his eyes have gone wide-wide. And his dick is now saluting the Queen.

Heh.

I've had to release criminal elements from his lanyard often enough that I know all about the way he knots it. So, I straddle him and take his wrists in my hands, then give him a quick check.

He's breathing shallowly, and his eyes are still wide blue. It's a good look on him.

"You ever done something like this before?" I ask him.

Fraser shakes no, the movement jerky. The spot over my left shoulder seems to have caught his attention again.

"Hey." I'm ready to call quits if this is too much for right now.

He meets my eyes, and I swear he gives this rueful smile. "It's all right, Ray," he says. "Doing new things...seems to happen a lot when I'm with you."

I boggle at him for a second. He's got some balls saying that to me when I was the one driving a bombed-out, flaming Buick Riviera within a couple of hours of meeting him.

Then I get it. It's all new for him, what we are. What we've been, and what we're looking to be. And he's in for the ride.

I have to kiss him, so I do, and he doesn't try to free his wrists from my grip, but his fingers stroke at my chest while he kisses me back.

And then I sit up again and tie his hands. He doesn't watch—he's looking into my face.

I do a triple wrap, just to add width, but if he pulls the lanyard is bound to give him marks. I want to warn him, but I kind of like the idea of him wearing a reminder under his uniform tomorrow.

I pull his arms over his head and secure the end around the wooden headboard. While I'm leaning over him he uses those sharp teeth of his to nip my chest, catching my nipple. Pain, and then heat rushes through me, and I'm trapped in a haze for a little bit.

I come to when he starts nuzzling my armpit.

"Freak," I breathe.

He nods against my skin.

I pull back. His arms are stretched tight over his head, and he's not going anywhere any time soon.

"My freak," I say, and he nods again. I see him strain a little, testing the tie, his fingers curling down trying to reach the knots. His cheekbones are flushed, and he's breathing hard, and there's something in his eyes hotter than blazes.

Never thought I'd see him like this. Never thought of Fraser being...hot and bothered, almost out of control. I'm liking it so much. I want to take him higher, hotter. I want to shatter him.

I start by trailing my fingertips over his chest, real lightly, like I have all the time in the world. Which I do, because he's not going anywhere. The thought makes me bare my teeth. His eyes widen just a tiny bit further and I see him yank a little on the tie.

 _Heh heh heh_ , I think.

His nipples are tight. They're this beautiful, pale brown, like milk chocolate, and I bend down to taste, catching one with my teeth. He starts shaking. I keep nibbling and sucking, wetting my fingers to tease the other one.

Oh, he's goddamn beautiful, flushed and sweaty and wanting what I've got to give him, wanting it so bad he's losing it, finally, saying, "R-ray. Ray, oh, _please_ , Ray."

God, I wish I could get it up again.

I stop teasing and take hold of him, grip him with my left hand, squeeze that sturdy cock of his tight before I scrunch down and take it into my mouth.

He turns to stone beneath me, as if he's afraid to breathe. As if he's afraid I'll stop. But I give him all of my mouth, suck him down and use my tongue good, tasting his hot, salty cock, sucking him for all I'm worth. And I'm worth a lot, let me tell you. I could have had a career of it if hustling weren't so bad for the knees.

He's given up holding his breath and is moaning now, trying to twist underneath me, get more of his cock inside my mouth. Total head-rush, having Fraser under my power. I want to see how far he'll let me take it, so I pull away and shift around until I'm between his legs.

He spreads them open for me, neat as you please. I take just a second to look up, to see Fraser all laid out for me, his eyes shut tight as if he can hide.

I don't let him. I get a couple of fingers good and wet and then suck him back in. While he's groaning in relief that I'm not leaving him hanging, I slide my hand down and start fingering his tender little asshole.

He makes a shocked sound, like Dief does when you step on his tail.

I smile around Fraser's cock and slip the tips of my fingers inside him, inside where he's tight and hot and strong, and he shudders and bucks, his whole body contorting underneath me. I ride the wave and push deeper, sucking slowly on the head of his cock. When I find that sweet spot, rub against it, I finally get what I want—Fraser just falls apart. His back arches and his legs spread wider and he shakes into pieces. His come fills my mouth and he's crying out—sounds like my name, sounds like a plea, sounds an awful lot like he's giving up, giving me everything.

And he tastes good, too. Who says revenge isn't sweeter than sweet?

I cuddle him a little afterward because he seems shaky, then I untie him and go clean up some. I bring back a cold, wet cloth and wrap it around his wrists, which really took a little more damage than I'd been planning.

He's patient for a minute or two, but as soon as I'm done he grabs me and pulls me back down into his arms. And the way he holds onto me—he does Mr. Limpet one better, you know? He's still whispering things, saying it quietly as if he's afraid someone will overhear. He says stuff like "You amaze me" and "I've always wanted to kiss you _right here_ " and then he does, and he's still got his lips nuzzling the side of my neck when I fall asleep.

I dream that I'm SuperMario, nabbing all the gold coins in the kingdom, battling the big boss and kicking him in the head.

And the best part of all: instead of a princess, I win the Mountie.

....................  
2007.06.16

**Author's Note:**

> (More on [The Incredible Mr. Limpet](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058230/), a film with somewhat disturbing metaphysical ramifications.)


End file.
